


That Time at Lane 5

by katsa5



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil Might be Human or Inhuman, Cecil is younger than Carlos, Episode Related, M/M, One Year Later, POV Carlos (Welcome to Night Vale), angsty fluff, canon violence, lots of science
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 08:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3440909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsa5/pseuds/katsa5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This listener's interpretation of the subterranean events at the bowling alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Time at Lane 5

The afternoon sun was beginning to set, while moon had already risen as if it was a competition.  The red sands of the desert was giving way to the glow of twilight violet.  Not a cloud was present, save one.  And it was over a small town, an enclave of stucco buildings clustered together with only one, deteriorating two lane road connecting them to the outside world.   
A coupe was rushing down the main road.  The driver didn't yet have immunity to stop signs, but he was driving like he was.  Dark, wavy hair blew wildly in the passing wind of the open driver's window.  Dark eyes were steely focused straight ahead, unflinching with each turn.  His skin was a darker, warmer shade from a day's worth of study in the desert sun.  His lab coat had faint patches of sand and dirt.  A bundle of blue green climbing rope and a modified lab kit in a metal tool box was in the passenger seat.  A small card lied on top; a handwritten invitation to an event at WTNV Radio Station.  The station was his original destination until Rachelle called him about the underground city.  According to the Teddy Williams, the owner of the bowling alley above it, the Army was on the move.    
As he drove down suburbia, the homes seemed empty, more than usual.  Not a single one was present.  Cecil's voice sounded from the car radio, distracting him a moment.  No matter how focused Carlos was, Cecil's voice would always break through.  He very faintly grinned as the community calendar announced familiar events like PTA meetings and library closings.  Then Cecil announced the event to come.  Carlos was late.  This will likely result in Cecil publicly guilting him on the radio.  But he wasn't worried, Cecil would understand.  This couldn't be missed!  An underground city.  There was so much to learn.  How did they maintain life underground? What resources were available to them with so little under the earth?  This could change how the world perceives everything from culture to atomic mass.  No scientist would miss that!  With a slam on the gas, he made a right turn instead of left and drove on.  
The car only stopped when it slammed into the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex parking lot.  To his surprise, it was nearly full.  As he jumped out, he saw the black lettered sign say 'Happy Birthday Jeremy Godfried'.  He strung the rope on his shoulder and grabbed his lab kit.  It seemed like everyone in town was here.  For the same reason as he?     
Whatever the reason, this large a crowd could cause problems.  People might riot at this potential revelation.  Then he remembered, it's Night Vale.  They calmly embraced the outlandish.  Dangerous scenarios were commonplace.  Even children were taught to calmly defend themselves.  But worry began eroding that faith when he saw the Apache Tracker leaning by the front door.  He was dressed in his . . . Usual garb.  Arms were crossed, head hung, and face solemn as if he had two minutes to decide which person will be visited by fate.  Carlos let him be.  
Carlos sighed in irritation the moment he opened the glass door.  The seventies styled bowling alley was now more like a crowded war trench. 'THEY ARE HERE' red letters blared like silent sirens at every electronic scoreboard.  A crowd was crushing around every corner, concentrating around lane 5, yelling in an deafening rabble.  Rifles, handguns, shotguns, weapons of many kinds were in hand. He became concerned; guns and beer in the same building rarely resulted well. The only one that seemed calm was Jerry Godfried himself, who was sitting forlornly at a table swirling frothless beer in its cup.  Calmly floating along yet distinguished from the maddening noise, was Cecil's calm voice.  A radio by the shoe rack played a description of what was happening as if he was standing next to Carlos.  For a moment, the scientist wondered if he was.  
Teddy Williams was leading the crowd.  He directed the anticipating 'soldiers' to surround the pin retrieval entrance, where the city was located.  Did he really intend to charge in there and that would stop the 'invasion'? Regripping his lab kit and rallying extra determination induced confidence, he nudged his way through the militia towards the end of Lane 5.  
Teddy noticed and stopped him in his place, "The hell are you doing?"  
"I'm investigating."  
Confrontationally, Teddy stood tall in front of him. "Not another step.  That city is getting ready to attack."  
"We don't know that."  
"Can't you hear the chanting?  That's not a peace parade!"  
By now, the armed folks began jeering at him. "And your little militia is only going to antagonize them further."  
"We're on orders from the Police to defend ourselves!" Teddy barked.  "We're not leaving our safety to an interloper!  You stay back and watch!  That's what you do, isn't it?"  Exacerbated, Carlos gave up on reasoning with him.  He stoically walked past Teddy, who's face went purple in rage at the scientist's defiance.  "Get back here!" He yelled after him.  
"Somebody has to get to the bottom of this.  And it's not going to be a deranged maniac!"  
"Oh yeah?!" Teddy continued to yell after Carlos as he crawled past the machinery, "Oh yeah?!  Say that to my face, Big Shot!"  
He ignored him.  

Crawling in was easier than he expected. Most of the machinery had long been diverted from Lane 5. But it still took some shifting and flexibility to move around the overhanging grates and hanging pins. The city was gleaming in the dark, shining against it like a glimmering badge against black silk.  Stunned and amazed, Carlos overlooked the great and distant expanse of thousands of buildings.  As busy as Los Angeles, expansive as Mexico City, as intense as Tokyo, as ornate as Paris and Rome, it expanded far and wide underneath the floorboards and foundations like every grain of earth was always had and will be theirs to use.  Some of the buildings were like small brown bricks.  Others a creamy white round.  Roads interwove them as they all flowed together yet standing independently like the crevices in a beehive.  He noticed that one corner of the city had been gutted through; that must have been where the bowling ball struck.  Most startling were the spires; twisting cones, skinny sticks, free-standing or attached to monastery-like structures or twisting about together like coral.  Some with windows, some lined with stairs, or some seem to radiate with a glowing energy that appeared painted on.  There were so many!  Most of those spires glittered like gold against the flickering lights of the arcade above.  Then the glowing energy got his attention.  It visibly moved like fish up and down the roads, buildings, and even the individual people.  What could it be?  
 Carlos knelt down on the cliff's edge, tying the rope around a steel beam as an anchor for the repel.  It was then that he noticed an off perspective.  His eyes followed the slope widening as he gazed down. The rope might not be necessary after all.  He shortened the excess and very carefully slid down the dirt and concrete ledge.   
Quickly kneeling down in landing, he heard a horrified gasp. A few of the attendees took notice of the earlier argument and had followed behind him.  And they still thought it was several miles down. Others that didn't follow before were looking in anticipation now.  The scientist hasn't yet run out screaming or being chased by the first waves of whatever that marched below.  No one was sure what move to make.  Not even Teddy Williams.   
Suddenly, they heard Carlos call.  "Everyone!  Look at this!"  They turned to see some come out with waving arms, excitedly gesturing entrance. Carlos himself was half off the ledge waving to them ecstatically as if he discovered another planet, which he just might have.  "This is amazing!"  With compelled yet carefully hesitant curiosity,  the scattered people quietly banded together and carefully followed one at a time through the pins.  With gasps and hushed tones in an uncomfortable squeeze, they gathered about the ledge.  Meanwhile, tiny people darted about the tiny streets or gathered in army regalia at the borders.    
This was beyond amazing!  This was the first diplomatic meeting of two different worlds!  Feeling overwhelmingly dramatic, with a wave of his arms and a broad smile he proclaimed the city to the crowd above, “This is not an enormous city miles below the earth. It is a very small city about ten feet below the earth, populated by tiny people, who have had to spend a year slowly climbing the ten feet to our world!” To reiterate his' point, he took two steps forward. The last one crossed the border. He towered above the population. “See? We have nothing to fear.”  
Suddenly, a tiny force struck his back.  Carlos began to stumble forward as every drop of elated emotion was replaced by sharp, excruciating pain. Luckily, he stepped and caught himself before he could land on the small spires.  Then another force, more strategic this time, struck his supporting knee. So ransacked by pain that he could barely think, Carlos blindly reached out to catch himself.  A piercing fire shot at his exposed side.  As he fell, streams of red splattered before his eyes like unfurled ribbons.  His ears barely registered the crushing stone and metal beneath his knees.  
He couldn't feel anymore.  He couldn't sense anymore.  Everything swirled about him like a whirlpool.  The only thing he could feel was all of his senses falling into the swirls and torn away from himself.  He tried to scream, but felt no ability to scream with. Everything muddled together to a beckoning thrum of a deep, near silent bass.  Slowly, the swirls began to fall away, like water down the drain, to an opening, a distant horizon point, darkness.  Gazing upon it, Carlos lost all means of resisting.  
Then he heard it.  A clear, tiny noise that pierced through the spiraling whirlpool of decay like a needle through cloth.  A voice.  One he knew.  Cecil.  
Cecil was crying.  
Then he heard another sound like in answer. It was a primal yell like a jaguar scream or a bear's roar. "Cecil!" It sounded like it was amplified from a great distance and yet as close as within himself. "No!"  It was his own voice! "I! Will! Not! Die!"  
Summoning all that he had left of his will, he fought against the swirls.  He pulled at what he couldn't feel.  He charged at what he couldn't see.  With everything he had left, he was going to break himself free!  
Suddenly, he felt himself floating.  No, not floating.  Carried.  Then tumbled across something else.  As he lied still, the swirls began to calm, and shapes began to return.  With shapes came the pain, but that was dissipating.  The thrum was receding.  And he began to recognize sounds and voices about him again.    
Finally, he saw the Desert Flower's ceiling.  He dared not move. Teddy Williams was over him, hands on him, checking him.  He looked at the owner's face, who was no longer angry.  He seemed both concerned and astonished.  The haze finally gave way as Teddy proclaimed, "He's OK!"  
Everything ached, but Carlos was stupefied that that was all he felt.  Worried that one wrong move might trigger further damage, he very warily looked about and found himself on the linoleum floor of the arcade surrounded.  They were far from the Lane 5.  Carlos lifted his head a bit to see it. It bore scars from explosions now, with tiny patches of broken metal and wood by the pin pick-up.  Trails of spilt blood, smeared by footprints, painted up the lane.  Was all of that his?  No, there was a seperate trail.  Following the noise of frightened chatter, he looked over.  Between wandering legs and also surrounded by concerned people, he saw the Apache Tracker.  He was on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, being cared for by Terry.  Blood spilt.  Not moving.  
Suddenly, strangers gathered about Carlos.  Hands reached down and either helped him sit up or clasped his arms and shoulders.  Everyone was talking to him at once in such an overwhelming babble that it reminded Carlos of the swirling again and made him want to vomit.  He tried to answer them, but gave up after the first one.  To ground himself, he recalled details.  Night Vale.  Desert Flower Bowling Alley Arcade and Fun Center.  The underground city.  Then he began piecing things together.  The city attacked him.  There were shots.  Blood.  He felt for injuries and found none.  His lab coat was missing; might have been removed to treat his 'injuries'. Carlos then began to listen to the people talking.  The Apache Tracker had gone after him.  Out of all the people there, he went in?  He must have carried him out.  And the city continued its attack.  Strangely, Carlos is alive.  Tragically, the Apache Tracker was dying.  
The small city tried to murder him.  Carlos admonished himself for not expecting it.  He must have looked like a rampaging Godzilla to them.  But he just rushed ahead. He underestimated them. And he nearly died for that. The Tracker did.  
Carlos felt like a fool.  
Suddenly, he remembered Cecil.  Overwhelmed, he covered his mouth as he recalled hearing him cry.  The radio was still playing.  Cecil was still calmly relaying events. "Oh Carlos!" He said. "All the words I never would have said to you!"  
"Me too." Carlos whispered against his palm.  He had to see him.  Now! With barely a sound, he slid away from the crowd and vanished out the door.    
But Carlos couldn't stop shaking.  His hands trembled as he tried to start the car with one hand and text Cecil with the other. He tried not to look directly at himself, afraid of what he might see.  All he felt were minor aches.  He probably shouldn't be driving.  He couldn't be sure if he was fine. "I should be dead!" He yelled to the sky, surprising himself. "This makes no sense at all!"  
Leaning upon the steering wheel, burying his face into his folded arms, Carlos forced himself to calm down.  He breathed slowly and deeply.  His mind was still processing all he had seen, but it was slowing down.  This is Night Vale, he calmly told himself.  There's no point in reasoning with something that won't make sense.  He was alive.  He was fine.  Isn't that all that mattered now?   
Then he realized that that's what life in Night Vale was all about. No different than anywhere else. Life goes on.  
His phone chimed.  Cecil texted him back, "on my way." Well, there was one thing that might make sense.  Carlos clung to that.

As he parked at the Arbys, he stared ahead.  The only attendee in the restaurant lobby was a hooded figure ordering takeout.  He turned to stare at the paper invitation that had fallen to the floor.  Only a short time, he was rushing to what might have been an earth-changing discovery.  Only to realize what was really important.  He needed air, so he stepped out and sat on the trunk. The sunset was painting the sky red.  
Very soon after, Cecil's car has sped down the road, parking next to his.  Smiling, Carlos watched as Cecil hurriedly scuffled out of his car.  His intensely white blonde hair, normally tussled softly like the down on a duckling, was more disheveled than usual.  Cecil immediately composed himself the moment he saw him, readjusting his vintage glasses that nearly fell off in his hurry, "What is it?"  Carlos could see the worry and redness in the man's violet eyes. "What danger are we in? What mystery needs to be explored?"  Cecil was trying so hard to sound professional that it was almost caricature.  But Carlos could see the heavy relief within those eyes that normally were alight with life or smoldering with secret knowledge waiting to be shared.  He was moved.  
Carlos shook his head, smiling softly, "Nothing.  It's just. . . After everything that had happened. . . I just wanted to see you."  
Cecil stood silently in place.  It wasn't until now that Carlos fully realized the affect his own smile had on the other, and how much Cecil's affected him.  He admired the way his surreally ivory skin glowed in the moonlight and the subtle folding of his hands and twists of his mouth as he searched for words that normally flowed free.  "Oh?"   
Carlos leaned forward, folded arms on knees.  Cecil is so cute!  The radio man was always so quiet around him, and it took him so long to realize why.  He wanted to apologize to him for not being there, for taking so long, for everything.  But with one look in his eyes, any and every word was rendered unnecessary.  Carlos scooted a bit to the side.  He coyly turned down his eyes to the space on the trunk next to him, inviting Cecil, who was barely restraining his skipping over.    
Side by side they sat together as the sunset slowly vanished.  Eventually, Carlos lowered his knees, "Cecil?" He looked at him.  "I used to think it was setting at the wrong time.  But then I realized that time doesn't really work in Night Vale and that none of the clocks are real." He slightly turned towards Cecil, "sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent, and then you find that, underneath, it was something else altogether.  Something pure, and innocent."  
Cecil voice was so softly sweet. "I know what you mean."  
There was so much Carlos wanted to say to him.  But words can wait.  Silence was enough.  
Carlos carefully reached over and tenderly held Cecil's knee.  As if in answer, Cecil rested his head upon Carlos' shoulder.  
As the two watched the night sky birth the strange white and colored lights darting through the stars and void like a sentient aurora borealis, the scientist serenely smiled.  He didn't need to keep running, when what he was searching for was here. He opened himself to the peace offered to him through a starry night with the man who sat with him now.  For the first time, he realized just how little he knew and was, and that was just fine.  Because so was Cecil, and they were together now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Be as an expressive as you want to be with the comments or the kudos button.


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